


until my protector come

by braigwen_s



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: “I am gathering you do not regret it,” said Vetinari, and Vimes knew it was as a joke, to release tension.  Once upon a time that, too, would have been a genuine proposed question.
Relationships: Havelock Vetinari/Samuel Vimes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	until my protector come

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "In League with Dragons" by The Mountain Goats.

“All of those years ago, when Wonse was running at you with a sword…”

Vetinari turned his head to look at Vimes sidelong, something questioning, then his chin tilted up a little, and he took the sentence from Vimes and set it neatly between the two of them. “You considered allowing him to kill me.”

Vimes breathed out. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t, though. Why?”

There was an interrogative edge to Vetinari’s question; this was not an idle probing, but a demand for understanding. Vimes frowned; opened his mouth to tackle any ideation into submission. But then he realised the meaning that…. this wasn’t about Vetinari; it was about Vimes. That was what he was meaning when he asked it. Vimes cast his mind back, shaking his head, trying to remember it. All that he could recall was that he’d had no idea why he was charging forward as he charged forward. “I don’t know,” he said. “I didn’t have any reason. I just acted.”

“I am gathering you do not regret it,” said Vetinari, and Vimes knew it was as a joke, to release tension. Once upon a time that, too, would have been a genuine proposed question.

Vimes snorted, and leaned back, wrapping Vetinari’s nearby shoulder in one broad hand, and shifting it gently backwards and forwards. It was cooler than Vimes’ hand, so Vimes frowned, leaned back further, and wrapped himself properly around Vetinari. “Only sometimes,” he said, teasing right back.

“Oh, dear,” said Vetinari, lying against Vimes. “I shall have to do better.”

He was meaning that he’d have to make Vimes regret not letting him die more often than ‘only sometimes’. Vimes snorted again, stroking the top of Vetinari’s hair and mussing it. Vetinari made a noise of protest, but it wasn’t the serious sort of noise that meant Vimes actually needed to stop. Then, the temperature-sensitive spot at the back of Vimes’ own head was suddenly jabbed into by ice-cold, sharp fingers, and Vimes gasped, wresting himself away from the man. “Oh, you bastard!” he said.

Vetinari cupped his hand over his mouth, shaking with silent laughter, lain out like a beanpole, content and mischievous. Vimes hesitated for long enough to savour the moment before he struck back.


End file.
